


Come Away With Me

by en_passant



Category: Ranma 1/2
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Gen, Hot Springs & Onsen, Post-Canon, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23753722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/en_passant/pseuds/en_passant
Summary: Nabiki is in the market for an apartment of her own, and Ranma and Akane would do anything to escape the madness of the Tendo household for a weekend. Of course, the best-laid plans of a martial artist rarely end so neatly...
Relationships: Saotome Ranma/Tendou Akane
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	1. Sanjuro

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ranpowo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranpowo/gifts).



> With profuse apologies for being almost a year and a half late, inspiration came recently to tidy up a half-finished draft of this and I figured it would be better late than never. My first try at a more canon-typical tone, which was a lot of fun to emulate.

The alarm clock blared with a tinny, insistent whine as the numbers flipped to 6:37 am, and Ranma extended a languid hand towards the top of the device and flicked it off. Rubbing his bleary eyes with the other hand, he glanced over to the empty, unmade futon across from his, before clambering to his feet. 

With a catlike stretch of his arms and legs, he paced over to the shoji and began counting down, tapping his feet to the pace of the quiet click of the alarm clock ticking down the seconds. As the count approached zero, Ranma planted his feet and hunched down, just in time for the screen door to slide open, revealing the silhouette of a panda charging his way. In one fluid motion, Ranma thrust out his arms, taking Genma by the gut and stepping aside, letting the momentum direct Ranma’s throw across the room. The impact resounded with a dull thud, and the house shivered; behind the panda’s prone form, the wood panelling was indented and shiny from repeated wear. Satisfied, Ranma padded out of the room and downstairs.

From the hallway, he could see and hear the signs of a household beginning to stir. Nabiki shuffled around the living room with a cup of coffee, hair mussed up into an explosive tuft. Soun peered over his newspaper at a half-finished game of shogi, grinning to himself and turning a few pieces around to face away from him. From the kitchen, the muted sounds of oil sizzling in a pan and a knife against a chopping board wafted in with the steam from the rice cooker. Though Ranma’s eyes wandered, he didn’t stop to comment on anything, instead continuing out of the house and over to the detached building across from the Tendo home.

Wordlessly, Ranma slid open the door to the dojo and took a position in the corner, loosening his posture and beginning a series of warm-ups. Across the room, Akane had set up a series of towers of bricks in increasing height, which she was in the process of demolishing with a series of vicious strikes, punctuated by a loud kiai. Between two of the towers, she glanced up and over at Ranma expectantly. “So? Panda or human?”

Ranma grimaced. “Ech, I still got some hair stuck to my arms...Pops doesn’t even stop shedding in winter, the bastard. How about you?”

“P-chan today,” Akane replied, a ghost of fading contempt in her voice mixed in with a hefty dose of pity. “Found him in the laundry room trying to figure out where the door was.”

“Is that the third or fourth time he—never mind,” Ranma shook his head and let out a sharp, short laugh. “Guess I’m takin’ a bath first today, I can toss him in when I go. Ya get a look at what Kasumi’s cookin’?”

With a sharp cry, Akane brought down a hand onto one of the towers of bricks and shattered them. “Omurice.”

“Damn, is it already Sunday? Thought we had at least a few more days until Ma swung around again…”

Akane groaned. “...I’m going to get some more bricks.”

The morning routine continued with little fanfare or variation. After completing a few katas and bowing out, Ranma returned to the house, dutifully scooping up the black piglet in Akane’s room and making his way to the bathroom. Ryouga ducked into the water and returned to his human form, and after a rinse and a shampoo, Ranma was preparing for a leisurely soak when a tense, insistent rapping came at the door.

With a weary sigh, Ranma stepped away from the furo, pulling a towel off the rack and wrapping it around herself, before sliding open the inner door. “What’ve we got, ‘Kane,” she said flatly.

“Well,” Akane ran a hand through her hair, “Shampoo’s knocked down one of the walls again, and now she’s trying to put Mousse in the oven, so…”

“Oh god, ‘Animal Farm’ again?” Ranma glanced back mournfully at the filled tub. “Guess there ain’t any point in gettin’ in today.”

Akane nodded with a sad smile. “I was having a good hair day, too.”

“Yeah, me too.” Ranma clicked her teeth. “Alright, well, bathroom’s all yours. I’ll keep an eye on the liquor cabinet while you’re gettin’ ready, then we can regroup after breakfast.”

With a firmer nod and a tightening of her features, Akane stepped aside to let Ranma out, then shut her eyes, heaved a sigh, and knocked her head against the doorframe.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the chaos level in the Tendo household had mostly maintained an equilibrium. Nobody could truly end the periodic showdowns between Shampoo and Mousse, which recurred with a frequency Ranma and Akane could practically set a watch to, but with a little vigilance the chaos from outside had been kept from billowing beyond the current frozen conflict. As Akane hustled downstairs, she glanced warily towards the kitchen. “How are things holding up?”

“Kept things to a dull roar so far, but we’re gonna have our hands full pretty soon. Least Mousse hasn’t pulled a Shanghai Shuffle yet,” Ranma sighed. “Dammit, where’s ‘Biki when ya need her most...”

Akane nodded. “Good work so far. What about our dads?”

“Hid the shogi board so they can’t start another fight over who cheated. Once Kasumi’s done with breakfast, we can have her check up on—”

Just then, the doorbell rang, interrupting Ranma’s train of thought and instantly replacing it with an overwhelming dread.

“She’s early,” Akane said, eyes narrowing. “We were supposed to have at least another 20 minutes, right?”

“Damn it, Ma…” Ranma thought over the situation, before nodding decisively. “Alright, we can still do this. You take over for me, I’ll try to get Ma inside quick so we can keep an eye on everybody.”

Akane gave her a thumbs-up, and Ranma dashed over to the door and opened it, 

“Good morning, son.” Nodoka’s expression was, as always, curled into a smile so perfect that the tension in it was sharper than the sword she carried around everywhere she went. Though Ranma had figured it wasn’t worth the effort to change back this morning when today’s brawl was bound—like clockwork—to undo it just as quickly, the way her mother’s eyes fell on her with the vague cast of judgment left her second-guessing whether it had been the right decision to skip out on it after all.

“Uhh, mornin’, Ma. Come on in,” Ranma replied warily, glancing down at the bag her mother held in her hand. Knowing her, a test of manhood surely awaited, and it was anyone’s guess what ridiculous trial she’d come up with this time. “Whaddaya got in the bag?”

Nodoka dusted off the sleeve of her kimono as she adjusted the heavy-looking canvas bag she held. “I just came back from the electronics store where they were having a lovely sale on a karaoke system,” she said, opening it up for Ranma to see.

“A...karaoke machine? What for?”

“Well, your father tells me that you’ve never sung any enka in your life!” Nodoka’s expression moved past simply distraught into a kind of, as far as Ranma could tell, righteous indignation.

“Um...nope, you’re right,” Ranma replied, already waiting for the line she knew would come next.

“And I couldn’t just sit idly by knowing my son had not been instructed in an art as fine and as manly as traditional singing!”

_There it is,_ Ranma thought as she struggled not to roll her eyes. With a hand extending to pick up the machine from her mother, she said “Okay, Ma, well how about we head into the living room and I can try out some tunes?”

“That sounds wonderful, dear,” Nodoka replied. “Although, Ranma, perhaps if you didn’t mind…”

“Changin’ back?” Ranma finished. “Yeah, hang on a sec,” she said, glancing towards the kitchen as the muted shuffle of a pair of footsteps clarified out of the din of the kitchen. As if on cue, Kasumi emerged from the hallway to greet her and Nodoka. “Good morning, Ranma. Good morning, Mrs. Saotome.”

“Hey, Kasumi. Er, ya mind puttin’ on a kettle for me?”

Kasumi beamed. “Not at all, little brother. Could I get anything for you, Mrs. Saotome? Breakfast should be ready before too long.”

Nodoka looked back at Ranma for a moment. “Why don’t you set everything up, and I can help Kasumi with breakfast?”

Ranma’s head jerked back sharply, coinciding with a dull _thump_ coming from the kitchen. “Nope, we definitely want to stay put and be far away from the kitchen right now. I’m sure Kasumi’s gonna be just fine. ‘Sides, you gotta judge how, uh, how manly I sound, right?”

Nodoka’s expression seemed a little bewildered, as if trying to resolve a paradox in her mind. “Er, I suppose that’s right. Well, why don’t we connect this to the television, then?”

After a few minutes of setup, all the cables had been plugged in and the karaoke system was ready to run. Despite the occasional grunts and sounds of struggle emanating from the ongoing conflict between Shampoo and Mousse, Ranma was able to convince her mother that it was just the sound of Akane and her father training in the dojo, and when Kasumi returned with a small kettle of hot water for Ranma, Nodoka’s test of manhood could finally begin.

“Lessee,” Ranma said, traversing the menu on the television screen that carried the titles of various ballads and pop songs. “'Kokoro Koorasete'? 'Amerika-bashi'? Never heard ‘em,” he muttered as he scrolled down the list of songs. “Oh hey, here’s one I know,” he said, pausing on 'Kawa no Nagare no You ni _'_ and pressing the ‘select’ button on the remote.

Nodoka made a slightly sour face, but kept quiet as the song loaded and began to play the florid, orchestral introduction. Ranma, for his part, did his best to stay in tune with the contralto part as the opening bars of the song began to roll on the screen.

_I came walking on this long, narrow path_ _  
_ _without knowing it_ _  
_ _When I turn around,_ _  
_ _my distant hometown is visible_ _  
_ _The uneven path twists & turns _ _  
_ _and doesn't even have a map_ _  
_ _So is the road of life_

_Ah, like the flow of the river_ _  
_ _I want to calmly go with the flow_ _  
_ _Ah, like the flow of the river_ _  
_ _The changing seasons_

Just as he was beginning to find his pace, though, a loud _crack_ ripped through the hallway, followed by loud squeal, a shrieked “ _Stupid boy!_ ” and a series of pots and pans clattering against the ground.

Ranma’s voice cut out and went quiet, the continuing music almost enveloping it. “That—that didn’t sound so good.”

“What is going on?” Nodoka asked, rising concern in her voice. “Is that really Akane and Soun in the dojo?”

“It’s—” Ranma started, only to be interrupted once again, as a new, heavier pair of footfalls tore into the room. A few moments later, a harried-looking Akane, her hair mussed and her training uniform thoroughly rumpled and worn around the edges, appeared at the entrance to the living room.

“Have either of you seen Ryouga?” she asked, a faint panic in her eyes.

The karaoke song reached a triumphant crescendo, as a look of realization, followed by instantaneous resignation made its way across Ranma’s features. “Aw, dammit,” he mumbled, quickly sidestepping towards the screen door to the engawa. “Ma,” he called over the music, “you might wanna stand back!”

An ominous rumble portended what followed, as Nodoka moved from her corner of the living room just in time for an explosion of splinters to replace her. Out of the rubble, a dusty mass of hair and cokebottle glasses and flowing robes emerged, assuming a defensive stance. “Shampoo!” a voice cried, “Just hear me out for a moment!”

Across the room from him, the living room now found itself with an extra entrance to the hallway, encircling the terrifying visage of Shampoo wielding a wailing black piglet like a morningstar inside a halo of caved-in wooden paneling. “Mùsī! I kill!” she cried, lunging forwards and swinging the pig by the tail right into the path of Mousse.

Scrambling, Mousse glanced around for an object to defend himself and landed on the kettle sitting on the table. When he hefted it in front of himself to block Shampoo’s onslaught, Ranma almost felt like he could feel time slow to a crawl, watching as an arc of warm water leapt from the spout and landed on the body of the terrified piglet. Before Shampoo knew it, the now-tailless and very naked Ryouga sailed out of her grasp, gaining momentum before tumbling end-over-end right into Mousse, then Ranma, and carrying the three of them right out of the living room, through the thin paper of the screen door, and into the frosted-over pond outside.

This proved to be one indignity too far for Ranma. Amid a cacophony of quacking and squealing, a soaking wet and shivering Ranma marched upstairs without a word, returning with a dry change of clothes only to weave through the chaos and destruction of the living room, before walking straight out the front door.

* * *

While the walk wasn’t too long, after being submerged completely in the Tendos’ frigid pond and having her hair freeze along the way, the warmth that emanated from the hot griddle at Ucchan’s Okonomiyaki was a welcome change from the outdoors for Ranma. While that in itself was a little unusual, since Ranma figured it wouldn’t be on so early in the morning, and the presence of someone placing an order at the counter stranger still, it was the identity of the customer that surprised her most.

“Nabiki!?” she shouted, somewhat louder than she needed to. “What’re you doing here?”

“Oh, please, Ranma.” Nabiki turned her gaze away languidly from the currently unstaffed griddle and towards Ranma. “You think you’re the only one who’s figured out that the utter madness in that household’s got a rhythm? I know when to keep my distance.”

“Damn,” Ranma shook her head. “Guess I shoulda figured you’d know all about it too, huh?”

“Hey, you can give yourself a little credit too. Staying on top of the neverending crisis conga takes some quick thinking. I always knew my little sister saw more in you than just a nice rack.”

“Huh?”

“Well, I suppose not _that_ much more.”

“Whatever!” Ranma huffed and took a seat by the counter. “Look, I just hadta get some space, okay? I barely got room to think in the morning before Mousse or P-chan or whoever shows up and trashes the place, or Ma comes around with some ridiculous new test of manhood.”

“Believe it or not, I can understand. If you ask me, our parents have been taking advantage of your preternatural talents for managing the circus we deal with for too long. I don’t blame you for losing your patience.”

“I’m just sick of it, ‘Biki,” Ranma exhaled sharply, shaking her head and glancing across the room. Just then, another familiar face emerged from the noren dividing the kitchen from the front of the house.

“Another ‘customer’ before opening time, huh?” Ukyou snickered as she set the container of chopped cabbage she was carrying onto the counter and began oiling the sizzling griddle. “Sick of what, sugar?”

“Oh, you know the score, Kuonji,” Nabiki cut in. “Suffice it to say that it’s nothing I haven’t told you about before.”

Ukyou glanced back at Nabiki and shrugged slightly. “Well, it’s like I keep telling you, once you have your own place you won’t have those kinds of issues anymore.”

Nabiki clicked her teeth. “You don’t have to convince me, but Tokyo’s not cheap. I’ve been saving up to get a place closer to Kokushikan, but I’m not about to let myself throw good money after bad on some landlord when I could be making a decent investment.”

Ukyou nodded sympathetically. “That’s smart. It’s like they always say, you can’t save bad batter with good cabbage.”

“... Sure, we’ll go with that,” Nabiki replied, the confusion on her face matching Ranma’s.

“Well, what about you, Ranchan? You thought about moving out from the Tendos?” Ukyou turned to address Ranma as she poured out batter onto the griddle in three quick spirals.

“Hey, I’ve been thinkin’ now for a while since we’re almost done with high school, I wanted to move out when it came time to go to university. ‘Course I gotta see if I pass the entrance exams, but…” Ranma sighed. “Well, I mean first I gotta make it through the rest of the year, and I’m pretty sure another week of this crap and I’m gonna lose it.”

A twinkle gleamed in Nabiki’s eye, and she leaned over towards Ranma conspiratorially. “Tell you what, Saotome. I think there’s a way I could get you a break from that house for a weekend.”

Ranma raised an eyebrow, slowly and deliberately. “Yeah? And what’s it gonna cost me this time?”

Her question earned a short, sharp laugh from Nabiki. “Well, normally I would have just had you strike a few poses and make a quick buck on the willingness of your male classmates to think with the wrong half of their bodies”—Ranma’s expression turned slightly queasy— “but in this case I have an idea on how to put your natural coquettishness to better use.”

No closer to understanding Nabiki’s scheme, Ranma kicked her feet impatiently. “Coquetti-what?”

“I’m talking about your frankly unsettling ability to bat those baby-doll eyes and walk out of a restaurant with the tab you’ve been racking up for weeks forgiven just like that,” Nabiki explained with a snap, the corner of her lips tugging upwards as she noted Ukyou’s posture shift self-consciously.

“You want me to flirt with a guy to get ya something for cheap.” Ranma answers with an utter lack of judgment or surprise.

“Do we have a deal?” Nabiki offered her hand to Ranma.

Taking it into hers and shaking, only the faintest sigh escaped from Ranma’s lips. “Deal with the devil, more like.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Satisfied, Nabiki rummaged through her purse and withdrew a chunky black flip phone, punching in a sequence of numbers and waiting for a response.

“Yes, Kingu-san?” she replied, the smile on her face sharpening ferally. “It’s Tendo...yes, that’s right. Now, do you remember that favour you owe me?”

* * *

By the late afternoon, Shampoo and Mousse had been called back to the Nekohanten, and Ryouga had vanished somewhere between the pond and the bathroom, bringing the ruins of the living room back to a superficial state of peace. The remaining tenants, Saotome and Tendo alike, had returned to the traditional cycle of perennial home repair; Genma cleared out the remaining splinters from the wooden panelling, Soun returned from the hardware store with replacements, Ranma and Akane hammered them back into place, and Kasumi brought the devastated kitchen back into order.

“Well, that should last us until next week, at least,” Akane said with a grunt, placing the last panel into place on the living room wall.

Ranma’s eyes flickered back to the kitchen. “Yeah,” he said dully, “I mean, unless—”

“Nope, nope, nope,” Akane interjected. “If Sentaro Daimonji descends on the house with an army of trained monkeys _one more time_ , I am going to change my name and move to France.”

“But we’d still haveta deal with C—”

“Fine! _Sweden_ ,” Akane’s voice cracked with exasperation.

“Tell ya what,” Ranma said, confidence returning to his voice. “I ran into Nabiki this morning over at Ucchan’s. She said that she could get us outta the house this weekend if I did her a favour.”

“A favour?” Akane raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? This is my sister we’re talking about here.”

“Ain’t like I’m not used to bein’ parta her crazy schemes before. Back when she was still in school, I could pretty much count on gettin’ roped into a new one of ‘em once a month. Heh, I almost miss Wildcard Wednesdays.”

Akane’s expression was flat. “I don’t. Half the time it was some dojo challenger or old enemy trying to kidnap me.”

“Yeah...sorry,” Ranma suddenly seemed chastened. “Anyway, she ain’t as bad as she used to be. You ask me, the whole song and dance around here is gettin’ kinda old for her too. She started talkin’ about movin’ out this morning.”

“Well, I can hardly blame her. Still, I can’t help but feel she’s up to something...hey, what did she mean by ‘getting us out of the house this weekend’, anyway?”

“Apparently she ‘won’ some mall lottery,” Ranma said with a slight roll of his eyes. “Grand prize, a couple nights at this ritzy ryokan in Hakone. I—I mean, if you wanna…”

“Yes,” Akane blurted out, stumbling over her words as she continued. “W—well! I just mean, it’s what, two hours away from here, right? So it only makes sense for us to go, a—and spend some time away from the chaos.”

“R—right, yeah.” Feeling a flush rising in his cheeks, he felt a strange sense of relief upon noticing another figure whose shadow had darkened the engawa. 

“N—Nabiki.”

“Ah, young love...” An irrepressible smirk formed on Nabiki’s face. “You know, I’m beginning to wonder if the chaos in this house hasn’t just been the result of our parents playing the long game.”

This time Akane spoke up, expression scrunching up as she sighed. “I know you have no concept of a private conversation, but do you really always have to go spying on us?”

Nabiki snorted. “You two geniuses were having a ‘private conversation’ in the middle of the living room. In a house like this, I’m not sure what you were honestly expecting, but if I were you, I’d be counting my lucky stars it wasn’t someone else.”

“Is this some kinda message you wanna call in your favour, or is it just more blackmail as usual?”

“You think so little of me, little brother?” Nabiki pulled an expression of mock offence. “No, it’s nothing so serious. I just thought we could take a few minutes to discuss strategy.”

“Right,” Ranma flashed a brief grimace at Akane. “Okay, wish me luck in there.”

“Sunday’s not over yet,” Akane admonished him as he followed Nabiki upstairs.

A few moments later, Nabiki led Ranma inside her room, and walked over to her desk as she began to shuffle through her belongings.

“So what am I in for here, ‘Biki?” Ranma tried not to let too much weariness bleed into his voice as he sat cross-legged on the floor of Nabiki’s bedroom.

“Right to the point, hm?” Nabiki raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Well, that’s fine. As it just so happens, I’m more than ready to put all of _this_ ,” she said, gesturing broadly at the room, “behind me too. You heard Kuonji; much as the freeloading life has its uses, having a place to call your own is worth a lot.”

“I got it,” Ranma shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “So who’s the mark?”

Nabiki pulled out a stack of folders and sat on the bed, placing them on her lap. “I may yet make a proper business partner out of you.” Flipping through the documents, she paused on one of the files and began to read off its contents. “Fudo Sanjuro, thirty years old. Last known address in Kitazawa, but he’s been more secretive with his movements in the last few months. Engaged, but neighbours reported yelling the last time he was sighted at his apartment, so there could be trouble in paradise.” 

Ranma rolled his eyes, his shoulders sagging. “Shoulda known you’d try to get me to be a homewrecker again.”

With another flip of the page, Nabiki glanced back at Ranma with a piercing expression. “If it works, it works. Besides, it’s not like that particular scruple has stopped you before.” 

“Listen here, it ain’t my fault Pops managed to get me engaged to a married woman on top of everything else. And a married man, too. And there was that one time where he—hey, wait a second…”

“Indeed,” Nabiki said, some concern in her voice as she shook her head. “How you turned out as well-adjusted as you did is nothing short of a miracle, if you ask me. I’m glad to hear that the traumas your father subjected you to give you at least _some_ pause; Freud would be having a field day.”

“This about you psychoanalyzin' me or about you gettin’ me to break up the Fudos now?”

“Far be it from me to stop you from helping me, but you seem to be awfully gung-ho about using your powers of seduction. Are you trying to tell me something, Ranma?”

“Just...tell me the rest of what I need to know,” Ranma said, with more than a little resignation.

Nabiki’s expression took on a slight pout, but she continued. “Fine, let’s see what else is here,” she said, her eyes flitting back to the page and landing on another section, “listen here...worked at Sentry Realtors for most of the past eight years, but it looks like he left to start his own firm a few months ago, Tsubaki Residential. Could be a way to put the screws to him if he’s not biting.”

“Hang on a sec, is this supposed to be haggling or torturing!?”

“I think you’ll find, Ranma,” Nabiki replied coolly, “that the two are not as different as you think.”

Later that week, Ranma and Nabiki strolled down the sidewalk of Setagaya-dori, the thick stands of skeletal trees occasionally swaying and dusting them in light snowfall. While Nabiki was bundled up in a practical long coat and scarf, the same could not be said for Ranma, whose trendy peacoat fell to just over the hem of a miniskirt. With a roll of her eyes, Ranma shivered slightly. “I’m freezin’ out here, ‘Biki!” she grumbled. “Why did I agree to this again…”

“I’m afraid that’s more or less the point, Ranma. Weather like this doesn’t often provide the opportunity for a _hardworking_ , _independent_ businessman like Mr. Fudo to…appreciate the aesthetics of a pretty girl leaving little to the imagination.”

“Ech...why’s it sound so much worse when ya put it like that,” Ranma shivered again, though not from the cold this time. “Whatever. Not like I ain’t done worse. Least this guy’s age is in the double digits, unlike that egg roll guy.”

“Your selflessness is appreciated. Now, let’s go over the specifics one last time. Best offer?”

“Under thirty mil.”

“Utilities?”

“Get the electricity thrown in with the other fees.”

“Management fees?”

“Squeeze him to ten thousand.”

“This one’s important. Closing costs?”

“No more ‘n 2.5%. You wanna keep testin’ me or what? Look, I read up on what ya told me to, trust me.”

Nabiki nodded with satisfaction, smiling despite herself. “She _can_ be trained. I’m kvelling a little bit, here.”

“I’m a guy,” Ranma said flatly, but without a great deal of rancour or, for that matter, conviction.

“Yes, yes,” Nabiki replied, waving her hand as if swatting away a fly. “Just remember, for the next few hours you’re Nabiki Tendo, first-year economics student at Kokushikan University. You need backup, you know where to find me,” she said, pressing a chunky cellphone into Ranma’s hand.

The two separated as they approached a short apartment building, with Ranma walking into the lobby and Nabiki splitting off and continuing. Though the building showed its age somewhat, Ranma noted that it seemed well-kept, and the interior had clearly been renovated in the last few years.

Her survey of the building ended quickly, as a man dressed in a navy suit rounded the corner of the stairs and approached her. Tall, with longer hair and a sparse goatee, he was hardly unattractive for being a business type, and looked a little like Toshiro Mifune. His appearance contrasted slightly with his tense, wary expression, and Ranma noted he was leaning slightly on a walking cane. “Miss Tendo?” he asked.

“That’s me,” Ranma replied, giving a quick bow.

“Fudo Sanjuro. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he responded, bowing in response. His eyes flickered briefly to her legs, and Ranma resisted the temptation not to smirk. “S—shall I show you upstairs to the unit?”

Flashing a pair of doe eyes, Ranma smiled brightly. “I would love that.”

* * *

A half hour later, Ranma’s efforts had borne fruit in rather spectacular fashion. Having shed her coat earlier on, revealing an ensemble of a tight oxford shirt and short cardigan, Ranma had left Fudo resorting to tugging at his collar insistently with every bat of her lashes, beads of sweat forming on his flushed face and the armpits of his shirt having long since soaked through. Most of the preconditions Ranma demanded—many of them flatly absurd—had been accepted on their face by Fudo, and a total success was within sight. Just a few more formalities and verifications remained before the contract could be inked.

“Now, a—as you can see, after its most recent renovation, this building has the best possible ratings in both Earthquake and Martial Arts Resiliency. It can withstand more than 2 Hikarigaoka units of stress! Still, we recommend going with an insurance plan that can protect your home and belongings in the case of a total loss.”

“That’s great.” Ranma shifted uncomfortably. “Say, excuse me, Mr. Fudo? Do you mind if I place a call briefly?”

“Of course, be my guest.”

Ranma walked back to the apartment’s closet, glancing around at the unit as she did so. From what she could tell, Nabiki had a good eye; the second-story walkup unit was small, like most in Tokyo, but it was a full 1LDK, and used its space efficiently. _Wonder how much longer I’d need to save to find a place like this?_ Ranma thought as she removed the phone, flipping it open and punching in Nabiki’s number before placing the call. 

“Ranma.” Nabiki’s voice was matter-of-fact. “I’m hoping the fact that you haven’t contacted me yet bodes well for our chances.”

“I got him on just about everything,” Ranma explained, “but now he’s started babbling about needing insurance for the Martial Arts Resiliency Rating or something. Is 2 Hikarigaoka units supposed to be good?”

“Oh for the love of—” Nabiki sighed. “Well, it stands to reason your little mall antics would have some unintended consequences. Figure out the price points for this insurance racket, and use your best judgment. I’d rather not be out my entire savings if one of your little friends decides to rain destruction down upon Kokushikan.”

Ranma, regaining her composure, nodded. “You got it. Anything else?”

“Just make sure you get those closing costs down.”

Ranma went through her mental checklist, “Yeah, that’s next up. Don’t worry, he’s cornered.”

Just then, a rumbling sound came from far away, and the building trembled slightly. “Whoa,” Ranma said. “...Feel that?”

“No…” Nabiki replied. “What are you talking about?”

The shaking continued, increasing in intensity with every passing moment. “Hang on, that don’t really feel like an earthquake…”

There was an extended silence on the other end of the line, which contrasted sharply with the sound of what Ranma finally recognized as heavy footfalls. “Ranma Saotome, please tell me you weren’t tailed by one of your hell-raising acquaintances.”

“No, this don’t got anything to do with—” Abruptly, the door to the apartment exploded, splintering apart and giving way to a cloud of sawdust and rubble. “—crap! Can’t talk now, ‘Biki!” she said, stowing the phone and rushing to the doorway

“Tendo! Are you—” Fudo rushed over to Ranma, before the concern on his face melted away, only to be replaced with a liquid fury. “You—! You’re from the Homeowners Association, aren’t you!?”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about!” Ranma yelled back over the sounds of crashing and building strain.

“I should have known it was too good to be true! You come in here with your sex appeal and your lowball offers. It’s all so clear right now. You’re clearly an agent for…” he paused dramatically, eyes darting to the door, where a number of identical men clad in black masks and suits filed in to surround them, “...the Sentry’s 21!”

As he announced it, the men each drew a pair of tonfa and began to close in on Fudo and Ranma. For his part, Fudo raised his cane. “You’re going to pay for this, Tendo…” he growled, and lunged forward in attack.

“W—whoa!” Ranma cried, leaping backwards out of the way, only to find herself backed up against one of the masked men, who swept forward with his tonfa. “I’m—dammit—not fightin’ against ya, Fudo!” Searching for a safer position in the cramped apartment, Ranma leapt up onto the tonfa, flipping backwards and onto the kitchen counter.

“If that’s true—ugh,” Fudo grunted as he thrust his cane forward at an attacking adversary, knocking him flat on his back, “what the hell are these guys all doing here!?”

“I got,” Ranma paused to deliver a kick to the back of the head of one of the 21 making a break towards Fudo, “no idea!”

One of the masked men spoke up, tossing one of his tonfa like a boomerang as he grinned ferally. “We heard the codeword, of course, to catch you when you’re cornered!”

Fudo dodged the weapon and leapt up to let his foot catch it, redirecting it towards the head of one of the other attackers, who narrowly avoided a direct hit. “Ishii, you idiot, there’s no need to narrate like a supervillain and give away all our secrets.”

“Ishii!?” Fudo yelled as he dodged another attack. “I was right, this _is_ personal!”

“Just business, like always,” Ishii replied, sliding under another one of his allies’ attacks and picking up the tonfa. “You have to understand, a 3DK with no transfers to Shinjuku…” he said, as he went for a leg sweep on Fudo, “is not something we could let fall through our hands.”

Jumping barely in time, Fudo retaliated with his cane, aiming for Ishii’s head. “You put my wife in the hospital, you bastard!”

In a crouch, Ishii extended an arm to the cane, his tonfa catching it, before using his other hand to break the cane in two. “Fujioka! The contracts! In his briefcase!”

As Ranma fended off another two attacks, she began to get nervous. She could hold her own for the moment, but the danger in twenty-one-on-two was the fatigue that would set in, and Fudo already seemed to be flagging. Worse, the Sentry’s 21 only seemed to be after the contract. If she wanted to win the day, she’d need to act—and fast. Leaping over to the briefcase, Ranma tossed it to the centre, calling out to the realtor. “Fudo! Keep it with you! I got an idea!”

Fudo grabbed the case, doing his best to evade the ongoing onslaught. Meanwhile, Ranma fought her way in, keeping her eyes on the briefcase as she searched for its weak points, all the while shepherding all of the attackers inward into the crowded centre of the apartment. Finally, pouring her energy into a jab, she extended a single pinky towards the briefcase.

“Bakusai Tenketsu!” she bellowed, abruptly shattering the briefcase. The wave of leather and paper shrapnel billowed outwards, blasting back everything not fixed to the floor of the apartment. As the shockwave rocketed outwards, it blew out the windows and reduced the apartment to a shell of itself. All of the attackers had either been thrown out the window with the rest of the detritus, or were knocked out against the walls of the apartment. Only Ranma and Fudo, who had been sheltered from the blast by Ranma herself, were left standing.

“Now,” Ranma said, exhaling sharply, “let’s talk about closing costs.”

In the sudden silence, one of the structural beams of the apartment building creaked, and Fudo sighed. “2 Hikarigaoka units, my ass…”

* * *

Meanwhile, across town, Akane was idly browsing at the AEON mall in Itabashi. After a few minutes of searching, she found an elaborate setup in the middle, where a number of signs advertised a raffle and the assortment of prizes one could win. A spa session, a basket of chocolates, gift cards for the mall, some movie tickets—and of course, the grand prize, a weekend for two at the Yunohana Ryokan in Hakone. What surprised her was not any of the trappings of the booth, but the man staffing it. His thick, bright blue haori and ornamented hat were distinctive enough, but when she saw the man’s golden-brown beard, there was no mistaking him.

“Gambling King!?” Akane cried out. “What are you doing here?”

“She didn’t tell you who she was leaning on, eh?” he replied, chuckling drily.

“How did you end up owing my sister a favour?” For all the heartache he had once caused, Akane’s question was almost sympathetic. There was no way being in the hole with Nabiki Tendo could end well for anyone.

“Well, it’s better this than losing my legs. Sure, it’s a real job, but at least in these raffles you know the house always wins, right?”

“She got you this job?”

The Gambling King laughed again. “Thank your sister for me when you get a chance. And tell her the big boss says hello, will you? Now,” he said, pulling out the sheet of raffle tickets and picking out a specific one to hand to her. “Tickets are 200 yen. I wonder if you’ll win anything?”

Akane looked confused for a moment, but then caught on, shaking her head and smiling as she retrieved a few coins from her purse and handed them over to the Gambling King.

“Let’s take a look at your number,” he said, giving her a knowing look as he went to his ledger with the ticket. “Now would you look at that. Lucky for you! It looks like you’ve won the grand prize!”


	2. Iron Chef

“Martial Arts Realty, hmm?” Nabiki asked, quirking an eyebrow. “That’s an awfully convenient excuse to explain why the apartment I had my eyes on currently looks like it’s just survived a bombing.”

“It ain’t my fault this guy had some secret spy ring tryin’ to bring down his business!” Ranma whined. “Besides, they were gonna steal the contract right under ya and resell it at twice the cost.”

“Really, Ranma?” Akane sighed as she put her face in her hands. “And here I thought we were finally going to get a weekend away.”

“Relax, little sister,” Nabiki held up a hand. “I’m not reneging on payment due. You’ll get your escape from the rat race in Nerima,” Nabiki said, returning to taking a few notes down in the folder she held in her lap. “Be that as it may, Ranma’s whole mayhem-first-ask-questions-later tactics have burnt a rather large hole in what was supposed to be a sensible investment. The renovations alone are going to run into the millions of yen.”

“Hey, I saved ya the whole closing cost!” Ranma crossed his arms, pointing at the copy of the contract in Nabiki’s folder.

“Good, that brings your debts down to—” Nabiki withdrew her soroban and made a few calculations, and a familiar sinking feeling began to nestle itself in the pit of Ranma’s stomach “—just three million yen. Perhaps you’re best off with the pinups, after all?”

“Yeah, well,” Ranma heaved a sigh. “Ain’t like bein’ in hock to you is anything new in my life.”

“Exactly,” Nabiki replied, “that’s no reason to stop you from enjoying your weekend. In fact, I got you two a little parting gift for the occasion.” She held out an envelope to the two of them.

Ranma eyed her suspiciously as he took the envelope. “This ain’t just another setup, is it?”

“Oh, be nice, Ranma,” Akane chided him, plucking the envelope from his hands and looking back towards her sister. “What’s inside?”

“That? It’s just some train tickets to get there and back.”

“See?” Akane shook her head. “That’s no reason to be antagonistic.” She flipped the envelope on its back, peeling back the loosely pasted section on top to reveal, as Nabiki had said, two pairs of train tickets.

The tickets were from Shinjuku Station to Hakone and back, on the _Romancecar_ line. “Har har, ‘Biki,” Ranma said, rolling his eyes. “Shoulda known this was just another chance for you to get one over on us.”

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Ranma,” Nabiki said, unmoved. “Now go on, enjoy yourselves. You’ll have plenty of opportunities for regret when we work out your repayment plan.”

* * *

For all of Ranma’s protestations about the name of the train they were on, it was a tamer ride than he imagined. The pair of seats were a little cozier than usual, without an armrest to separate them, and the trip from Tokyo to Hakone went quickly enough. The sights of the city soon gave way to a more suburban, and finally rural scene as the train carved a path through the snow-covered mountains into the Haya River Valley. With the sun peeking out from a cloudbank, the tips of the surrounding mountains glittered, and the open-air baths of the small traditional inns peppering the valley gave off small clouds of steam that wafted above them. The combination of seeing the natural beauty and knowing that he was getting out of Tokyo for the weekend put Ranma in an unusually good mood.

“This place looks really nice,” he finally commented. “Hell, for once I think I’m glad I fell for one of ‘Biki’s schemes.”

“Well, if there’s one thing you can’t fault about my sister, it’s her taste,” Akane responded with a smile.

“No kidding. Hey,” Ranma said, glancing back at Akane, “I bet this kinda place would be great for a honeymoon, right?”

Akane did a slight double take, her eyebrow twitching. “Excuse me, _what_?” 

Sensing he had stepped on a landmine, Ranma hunched his shoulders and stumbled over an excuse. “I—I mean! Like, theoretically, for all those other folks gettin’ married, ya know…”

Akane’s eyes were half-lidded with suspicion as she mumbled, “Right. Theoretically,” but she decided not to press any further as a robotic voice came on and announced the train’s approach to Yumoto Station.

When the train had pulled into the station and came to a stop, Ranma pointed towards the restroom at the end of the car. “Hang on, tomboy, I’ll be right back.”

Akane nodded and went to retrieve their suitcase. She was surprised to see Ranma return in her female form, but said nothing as the two disembarked from the train and stepped out of the station.

Like many tourist towns, Hakone’s main thoroughfare doubled as a shopping district, dotted with numerous cafes, street stalls, omiyage, specialty foods, and other culinary delights. Within a few minutes of walking out of Yumoto Station, Ranma had discovered all they had to offer, and her face had glazed over into the expression of sickly-sweet innocence she always used to earn free samples from the most guileless vendors and shopkeepers. Despite Akane’s best efforts, Ranma began to bounce between stalls within a few minutes of arriving, emerging each time with another tidbit.

It wasn’t until Akane saw Ranma’s newest haul, a steamed bun that was clearly larger than her head, that Akane knew she’d need to make an intervention. Clutching Ranma’s wrist, she raised her voice and planted her feet where she stood. “Ranma!” 

Utterly oblivious, Ranma turned around and cocked her head. “Huh?”

Akane huffed. “Honestly, we’re going to be having a nice dinner at the ryokan this evening, without the threat of violence for once in our lives. I know you like sweets, but can’t you save some room in your stomach for tonight?”

For a moment Ranma flared, ready to justify herself, when something clicked into place in her mind. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I know he’s not here, but the back of my mind keeps thinkin’ a panda’s gonna show up and eat it all before I get a bite in.”

Akane’s expression softened. “Well, he won’t be here to ruin it. It’ll just be the two of us.” 

Ranma nodded in satisfaction, and the two settled into a comfortable silence as she offered a piece of her steamed bun to Akane and they began walking back to the inn. It was only a few minutes later that the full impact of it dawned on them.

“Hey...wait a sec,” Ranma stopped walking, loosening her grip on the bag of sweets she’d been collecting, her expression caught between confusion and relief. “Did we just get through that without yelling or starting a stupid fight as usual?”

Akane turned towards Ranma and laughed slightly. “I guess things don’t have to get that bad if we aren’t stuck inside that crazy house.”

“Sometimes I think there’s something in the air there makin’ us all go nuts.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ranma,” Akane replied flatly. “It has to be something in the water.”

* * *

A few hours later, as the winter’s early sunset rolled up the bustle of tourists in the town, Ranma and Akane arrived at the door of the Yunohana Ryokan. The inn itself was the height of tradition, the building and many of its fixtures carved out of deeply lacquered dark cypress, with immaculate tatami flooring covering the rooms and the public areas. 

After they checked into the ryokan and put away their belongings in their room, there was no debate on what was next. On a cold, still evening like this, with a gentle coat of snowflakes dusting the outdoors, the open-air hot springs were the perfect remedy to warm one up. Both Akane and Ranma made a beeline for the freshly laid-out yukata, only for Akane to pause as she took another look at the girl beside her.

“Um, Ranma…”

Ranma glanced back at Akane guilelessly. “Yeah?”

“Not to point out the obvious,” Akane said, gesturing vaguely at Ranma’s torso as her face scrunched with uncertainty, “but we’re going into the _hot_ springs.”

“Oh right,” Ranma replied, before hurrying over to the duffel bag. She unzipped it and began to dig through the layers of clothing and toiletries, before coming upon an ornately decorated cardboard box with the characters ‘抗水皂鹼’ in the centre and showing it off to Akane with a grin.

For her part, Akane squinted at the label for a moment, before realization set in. “Is that…”

“Waterproof soap. Neat trick, huh?” Ranma puffed up her chest with pride. “I mean, it still kinda sucks cause ya gotta use it twice a day for it to stick right, but I figure that ain’t a problem if I use it before goin’ in the springs.”

“Before…” Akane’s expression was blank for a moment, before a spark of indignation rose to the forefront. “Hang on, you’re going in like that?”

“I mean, yeah?” Ranma replied, flushing faintly. “They don’t got mixed baths or anything here. And takin’ a trip out all the way to Hakone just so I can sit on the other side of the hot springs from you kinda misses the point. I—I mean, if ya ask me…”

“But what about…” Akane grasped for an explanation, looking unsure of her own words. “Well, what about the changing rooms?”

Ranma’s blush gave way to faint annoyance, setting the soap down as she whirled back towards Akane. “You say that like I ain’t been usin’ the girls changing rooms for swim class for the last two years, tomboy.”

“Well, that’s true, but…” Akane stumbled over her words, but uncertainty clung to her voice. “I just thought…”

Ranma tilted her head. “Thought what?”

“I thought after the baths we might want to, you know, fool around a little, and...”

With a jerky nod, Ranma coughed, her eyes flitting to the floor. “Oh. I uh, right...sorry. Guess I better go get changed.”

“No!” This time, Akane’s voice was more sure of herself. “No, I mean… I’m sorry, Ranma. I was assuming something because it seemed like the sort of thing we were supposed to do, not because we have to.”

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna force ya into anything, ‘Kane.” Ranma’s expression looked slightly strained.

Akane paused again, before finally glancing back at Ranma sheepishly. “Did you mean what you said before?”

“Whaddaya mean?” 

“About wanting to spend the weekend with me?”

With that, Ranma’s blush came back in full force. “Well it ain’t like I was anglin’ to spend it apart, so, yeah, I guess,” she finally manages.

Akane was quiet, again, for a long while, before a brightness emerged on her face. “Okay.”

“...Okay, what?”

“I meant okay, girl-boy,” she said, sticking out her tongue. “Come on, let’s get changed. And don’t forget your soap!”

* * *

A few minutes later, the two of them emerged from the change room out into the open-air bath. The scene itself was as beautiful as it had looked from the outside—the natural barrier of rocks and moss were blanketed in undisturbed snow, and new snowflakes melting away as they fell into the steaming pools—but it was no less a shock to the system as they went from the heated shower room to the outdoors.

“That’s cold!” Akane cried, picking up her pace as she shivered.

“Easy, tomboy,” Ranma cautioned, but not without speeding up as well.

Soon, both of them were at the lip of the pool. Akane wasted no time in jumping in, while Ranma, after a moment’s hesitation, followed suit.

“Whoa…” Ranma said as she lowered herself into the hot spring. “That feels..kinda different.”

“Is everything okay?” Akane asked. Her wariness hadn’t been wholly exorcised, but she almost surprised herself at finding her first reaction to be one of concern.

“Yeah, it’s fine, ain’t anything bad,” Ranma waved away the concern, sinking in deeper and humming. “Just been a while since I was in hot springs as a girl. Since that time in Imodzuru with Herb, I think. It’s just...weird.”

“Let me get this straight: you’re _not_ changing back and forth multiple times a day, and _that’s_ weird?”

“Hey, for me it is. Pretty sure I ain’t gone a day without switchin’ back and forth at least once in...a couple months at least?” Ranma said, scratching her chin. “Never really thought about it like that.”

“Well, this weekend you get to see how all of the rest of us live. With one gender and everything.”

Ranma laughed self-consciously. “Lemme tell ya, it ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, if you ask me.”

Akane’s expression was quizzical but, surprisingly to Ranma, largely non-judgmental. “You prefer being cursed? I mean, I know, back at Jusendo, you said it didn’t matter...but...”

“Well, no,” Ranma explained, “I mean, not being _cursed_ , anyway. But the _curse_ ain’t about becoming a girl or a guy. Never has been really, to me. It’s just...not gettin’ to choose half the time, not knowing what’s coming next, that sucks. Hell, if I got to pick whenever I wanted…”

“B—but you’re a boy,” Akane blurted out, a little too loudly, before covering her mouth and looking away from the other bath patrons.

“I’m just me, ‘Kane.” When Akane’s puzzlement deepened, Ranma continued. “Look, don’t ya think it’s stupid you get nothing but beef for not bein’ able to cook, but when I help out Kasumi in the morning, Pops calls me a sissy?”

Akane’s cheeks burned, her temper flaring. “Hey! Just because nobody taught me, doesn’t mean…”

Ranma held up a hand. “I ain’t sayin’ ya can’t learn. But if you were a guy, nobody’d be sayin’ a thing. I mean, do ya really think I only like parfaits when I’m a girl? It’s stupid, but…” Ranma sighed. “People look at ya different. It ain’t perfect, but least this way I can do what I want without somebody tellin’ me ‘that’s for girls’.”

“Huh.” Akane paused to consider it. “And right now…”

“Right now we’re two and a half hours away from Tokyo,” Ranma said, and then took a deep breath, mustering up her courage. “And, I wanted to hang out with you. Without all the baggage from the dojo and the engagement or whatever hangin’ over our heads.”

Akane’s gaze had been locked on Ranma’s, but in the moment she could no longer maintain it, looking away in embarrassment even as she shifted closer. “You know, you can be really sweet when you’re not trying to prove something to yourself or your father.”

This time it was Ranma’s turn to be embarrassed. “Careful, you keep sayin’ stuff like that and it’s gonna swell my head.”

Even as they struggled to maintain eye contact, their bodies were inches apart; Ranma could feel the tense, vibrating energy between them as she paused, searching for something else to say. It was only when Akane moved her left arm—bringing them briefly into blissful, divine, almost unbearable contact—that she lost her mettle, laughing and shifting away, flustered. Akane’s motions matched hers, flinching backwards sheepishly.

“Heh...I didn’t think through this very well, did I?” Ranma said. “Maybe we should get out for a while and uh...take a breather.”

“Y—yeah,” Akane replied. “It might be nice to...cool down for a little while.”

Wordlessly, they rose from the hot springs. Ranma stepped out first, stretching and shivering slightly. Akane, clutching her towel, not-so-subtly peeked over to see Ranma and, cheeks burning, picked up Ranma’s towel and huffed. “Ranma! I don’t care if it’s all women here, stop being so ostentatious!”

Ranma stuck out her tongue, but took the towel. She opened her mouth to say something, but a gust of cold air shocked them both into darting inside, back into the warmth of the changing room.

After the two of them had put their yukata back on, they wandered into the common area together. To the side there was a large television that showed a pair of figure skaters in an Olympic arena; several people were crowded around the screen, intermittently cheering after the skaters performed a lift or a throw.

“Oh, hey, the Olympics are on,” Ranma said, pointing to the crowd and standing on her tiptoes as she tried to get a glimpse of the screen.

Akane approached one of the spectators and motioned towards the screen curiously. “Is that figure skating? Who’s dancing?”

The woman replied, “It’s the Japanese pair skaters. We weren’t supposed to have a shot this year, but many of their competitors were mysteriously attacked by a gang of men wearing hockey masks.”

“Um…” Akane replied nervously.

The man beside her glanced away from the screen and nodded. “If you ask me, though, claiming you were attacked by 100 mask-wearing hooligans is a little far-fetched.”

Ranma squinted and began to grimace. “Hang on, is that…”

“Still,” the woman commented, “you have to admit that it’s something of a disturbing coincidence.”

Everyone turned back towards the screen, as the pair skaters finally came to a stop at the centre, holding out their hands triumphantly. “That was Azusa Shiratori and Mikado Sanzenin, the pair skaters for Team Japan,” the announcer said triumphantly.

“Dammit!” Ranma turned away from the screen. “Let’s do something else, ‘Kane…”

As they continued to the end of the common room, Ranma and Akane found a door to a small side room that had a ping-pong table. 

“This oughta be more fun than watching that asshole gloating on national TV,” Ranma grumbled.

Akane smiled slightly as she picked up a paddle and one of the ping-pong balls, and once Ranma had picked up a paddle of her own. “Ready?”

Ranma nodded, and Akane began a simple serve, beginning a rally as Ranma expertly hit back the ball. As it began to drag on, Akane’s enigmatic smile grew as she started to deliver the ball back into increasingly difficult locations.

“Dammit! Stupid short arms...” Ranma darted to the right to keep the rally alive, leaving the left side of the table open.

Akane smirked as she tapped the ball with her paddle with just enough topspin to send the ball corkscrewing away on Ranma’s weak side, scoring a point. “Damn, tomboy, where’d ya learn to play table tennis like that?” Ranma said, catching her breath.

“Shampoo, if you can believe it. She got a normal table after that whole super soba debacle. We were doing a few sets once a week for a while there.”

“You...hang on, since when do you hang out with Shampoo!?”

Akane shrugged. “You know, when she and Mousse aren’t causing massive property damage, they’re actually a lot of fun to be around. You should try it sometime.”

“Yeah, maybe after I stop having nightmares about them pullin’ a Peking Panic...anyway, glad ya learned you don’t need super soba to win a ping-pong match, at least. I think I like ya better without the whiskers,” Ranma replied with a grin.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Akane grimaced, before picking up a new ball and preparing to serve. “You were right, it’s a mental game, not about how strong you are. And before you complain about your reach, it’s not about that either. Just focus on predicting how your opponent is going to react to your return shot.”

Ranma nodded. “Alright, let’s do it again.”

* * *

After Akane won two sets, Ranma pouted, but eventually yielded as her hunger finally outweighed her desire to win the match. The two of them left the common room and filed into the dining room, where a few others dressed in the ryokan’s yukata were seated, their tables piled with several elaborate kaiseki dishes. The hostess approached the two of them and, after taking their names, guided them to their own table in the corner of the room.

Within a few minutes, the dishes began to arrive at the table, one by one. Small and artful, each plate provided both an aesthetic and culinary enjoyment as the meal proceeded.

As the next plate arrived, Ranma took another one of the black eggs on the plate and cracked it open. “Huh. Always figured this fancy stuff wouldn’t be as good as something simple, but...man, these are good.”

“They are, aren’t they? Still, the sashimi plate was one of the best I’ve ever had,” Akane replied, and then glanced up at the server appreciatively. “Thank you!”

The server bowed. “I will pass along your compliments to the chef.”

With the next course, a man with horn-rimmed glasses and a faint soul patch emerged from the kitchen, holding a plate with a delicate pillar of tempura vegetables perched atop a small bowl of tentsuyu. “Ladies, I hope you are enjoying your meal tonight,” he said, eyes trained on Akane.

Ranma stiffened, but said nothing as Akane smiled graciously in response. “It’s been wonderful so far. Are you the chef?”

“Tetsuo Morimoto, it’s a pleasure to serve you.” the man said, setting down the plate on the table. “Is this the first time you lovely ladies have come to the inn?”

“No, this is our first time here,” Akane replied, her tone straining a little bit but remaining polite.

“Well,” Tetsuo smirked, “I’d be happy to give some tips to a new visitor about places one could...enjoy oneself.”

Her eye twitching, Ranma breathed in deeply, then shifted slightly as her expression shifted completely, into a doe-eyed, almost impossibly sensuous wonderment. Noticing Akane about to reply, she unceremoniously pushed her aside and took Akane’s place in Tetsuo’s line of sight. “Oh, yes! We heard before we came here that there was a _handsome_ and _amazing_ chef who was very...skilled with his hands.”

Akane gave Ranma a look of shock and disgust as the man gamely followed up on Ranma’s ministrations. “Well, perhaps after your meal, you might like to come with me to the kitchen and I’ll give you a...private tour.” With a wink, he waved to Ranma. “You ladies have a lovely meal.”

After Tetsuo was out of earshot, Akane took Ranma by the shoulders and shook her. “What the hell are you doing, Ranma!?” she whisper-yelled.

“Hey, he was makin’ eyes at ya, and right in front of me too! I wasn’t about to let that creep get away with that!” Ranma crossed her arms and huffed.

“And you thought that the best way to do that was by flirting with him _more_?” Akane asked, incredulous, before sighing. “Never mind, of course that was your first instinct. You know, Ranma, a little bit of protectiveness is sweet, but there are other ways to solve these things.”

Ranma, chastened, slumped her shoulders and nodded. “Sorry…”

Her remorse lasted at least until the next course of the meal came out, where slices of perfectly grilled yellowtail were laid out like a fan. And by dessert, almost the entire conversation was out of mind; it wasn’t until they finally stood up and were about to make their way out of the dining room that Tetsuo caught sight of them again, and placed a hand on Ranma’s shoulder.

“Miss, why don’t you come with me? There’s many more impressive things I could show you in my kitchen.” Tetsuo’s voice had shifted now, to a slightly seedy growl.

Ranma whirled on her feet to face the chef, her temper flaring.

“Ya wanna take this to the kitchen, do ya!?” Ranma asked, “Fine! Well how about this. Ya might make this food look fancy, sure, but I’ll outcook you any day!”

A few customers around them began to glance over as the atmosphere between the two began to heat up. Akane just stared at Ranma, dumbfounded.

“Oh ho, little lady,” Tetsuo began to chuckle darkly, “I didn’t realize it was a fight you were looking for.”

“Not just any kinda fight, buddy. A challenge. Any kinda crap you can make, I’ll do it better.”

“A challenge? I think that can be arranged.” Tetsuo thought for a moment, then rapped the sushi bar with his fist. “Hmm. I’ve got it. You saw those Owakudani eggs?”

“The black ones from the hot spring?”

“Precisely. A kaiseki meal featuring those in every course, to be judged before a panel of experts! And if I prevail…”

“ _When_ ya lose,” Ranma cut in, prodding Tetsuo in the chest, “you leave _my girlfriend_ the hell alone!”

The crowd of onlookers murmured—whether in confusion or concern, it was impossible to say, Nevertheless, Ranma and Akane were not there to witness the full aftermath, as Ranma grabbed Akane by the hand and marched out of the dining room.

* * *

After the unceremonious end to their dinner, there was a stubborn distance in the air between Ranma and Akane, neither one willing to verbalize the dispute, but not willing to let their frustrations go, either. By the time they turned in for the night, each one had turned away from the other on the futons, huffing and clumping up their duvet in their arms.

In the dry winter night, Ranma was the first to wake up, taking a glass from the desk, filling it in the tap, and taking a few swigs. As she padded back to bed, she rubbed her eyes and noticed that Akane had kicked the comforter off of her legs. “Dumb tomboy,” Ranma muttered, setting the covers back over her feet and tucking her in, before returning to sleep.

About an hour later, Akane came to, using the bathroom before seeing that Ranma’s comforter had slid down to her waist. “Idiot’s gonna catch a cold,” Akane mumbled, before pulling the comforter all the way up to cover Ranma completely.

The next morning, both of them woke early, and despite the lingering friction, the two agreed to make the hike up to Lake Ashi to train.

As they passed the shrine near the summit of the trail by the lake, something about the bracing morning air seemed to knock loose a stray thought in Akane’s mind, and she stopped and turned to Ranma.

“This was supposed to be a relaxing weekend just for us, Ranma. Why did you have to go and issue some ridiculous challenge again?”

Ranma looked away briefly, a little embarrassed. “Yeah, that was pretty stupid of me. ”

“What were you thinking?” Akane shook her head, but her tone was kinder than Ranma expected.

“I mean, he was makin’ a pass at you! I wasn’t gonna let him get away with that. You’re my fiancée.”

“You didn’t say fiancée, you said _girlfriend_.”

“W-well, yeah! ‘Cause, well, I mean, I know we ain’t talked a lot about what we’re gonna do when we graduate, and I know it’s our stupid dads who are pushin’ this whole thing, but you mean a lot to me, ‘Kane. I lo—love ya, after all.” Ranma said as her cheeks flushed.

“Dummy,” Akane extended her hand to Ranma. “I love you too. Even if you get yourself into trouble too often for your own good.” She stopped to consider Ranma’s point. “You know, when it’s just the two of us and we don’t have to juggle our families, it always ends up being easier.”

Ranma nodded. “Yeah, I forgot what it’s like not to have to look over my shoulder for my old man.”

Akane laughed. “Me too. Daddy is sweet, but...he can be a lot to manage.” Looking out towards the lake, her voice took on a more serious tone. “It’s hard, when they’re always there trying to get what they want. I don’t know about something like engagement or marriage, really, but...maybe we should think about what _we_ should do after graduation.”

“Ya mean like, getting a place for ourselves?”

“Well, we can’t all be my sister and have enough blackmail money to put down a mortgage before her coming-of-age, but I think we could figure something out.”

“Be a lot simpler if we could just toss out our dads and make ‘em go live somewhere else,” Ranma grumbled. “...But yeah, I’d like that.”

Giving her trademark megawatt smile, Akane nodded. “Well, it’s still pretty early. What are we going to do now?” 

Ranma loosened her limbs and smirked. “Come on, tomboy. We gonna spar or what?”

* * *

By the time Ranma and Akane made it back down to the base of the valley, the entire dining area of the Yunohana Ryokan had been transformed. Behind the counter, the kitchen space had been roughly divided into two different sections; some appliances had been dragged over to create approximately equal setups. Outside, the section reserved for diners had had all of the tables cleared away, repurposing the cushioned seats for a live audience, and the section nearest to the kitchen had been laid out with a long table, a few microphones, and chairs that faced the audience. 

Ranma and Akane stood at the edge of the quickly forming crowd, trying to get a glimpse of the action.

“Man, he really wasn’t messin’ around. This place is packed!”

“You know Chef Morimoto is pretty famous, right?” Akane placed her face in her palm. “I guess this was bound to happen at some point or another.”

“Hell, I don’t care if he’s famous. I’ll beat him anyway!”

“You don’t need to convince me, Ranma,” Akane smiled and shook her head slightly. “It’s him you’re going to have to get on your side.” Akane pointed at a man wearing an elaborate golden costume.

“Hey, ain’t he that guy who runs that TV show where they get weird TV talents to rate food or something? Dammit, did they really get a celebrity chef to come be the judge, too?” Ranma asked nervously.

“You’re right, that’s Chairman Waga,” Akane replied. “But who is that woman with him?”

The two of them looked back at the crowd of onlookers, and what appeared to be a panel of celebrity judges besides Waga. One of them, a middle-aged woman with a slightly crazed look in her eyes, had dropped a large bag on the table, removing dozens of packages of instant noodles, and was in the process of forcing the kitchen staff—and, it appeared, anyone within her reach—to take as many instant noodles as she could give away.

“Oh, shit, that’s Momoko Mendo,” Ranma whispered. “She’s the one who said she could tell the future by reading your cup ramen.”

“Don’t look now, Ranma,” Akane said, pointing back at the scene unfolding across the room from them, “but I’m pretty sure that the special ingredient for tonight’s dish just had a last-second change of plans.”

The woman’s efforts seemed to have paid off, as the kitchen staff had begun clearing off the table with the inn’s specialty hot spring eggs, and replacing them with packages of instant noodles.

“Damn it! How am I supposed to make a real dinner outta instant noodles!?”

“Well, if it helps,” Akane tried to reassure her, “you won’t be the only one doing it either.”

“Yeah, but look at that bastard. He’s already rubbed elbows with these guys, I know it!” For the first time since laying down the challenge, uncertainty had begun to seep into Ranma’s voice. “Aw man, what am I gonna do?”

Akane placed her hand on Ranma’s shoulder in reassurance. “Hey, what’s all this about? ‘Ranma Saotome always wins’, right?”

Ranma’s expression softened, and she smiled at Akane. “'Ranma Saotome never loses'. But no, you’re right. I just gotta...damn, I just need another perspective on this. Maybe I should call mom...”

“Ranma, the competition looks like it’s starting in just a few minutes. I’m not sure there’s time.” When Ranma seemed distraught, Akane continued. “But listen, you can do this. You just have to believe in who you’re cooking for! It’s like when you put the soy sauce into the melted chocolate. You just have to put enough in to show that you care!”

Ranma just stared and nodded weakly. “Yeah, we can uh, we can talk about how you make chocolate later, tomboy. But,” she gave Akane a warm smile, before placing a soft kiss on her lips. “thanks, Akane.”

Waving, Ranma rushed over to her half of the kitchen.

* * *

In the meantime, Chairman Waga had begun to rile the crowd, listing out the conditions for the competition as well as, perplexingly, a number of corporate sponsors. _Is this really going on TV?_ Ranma wondered, as she snuck through the crowd and back to her place on her side of the kitchen setup.

“If memory serves me right,” Waga began, “Tetsuo Morimoto is a man renowned for his mastery of kaiseki cuisine. Today, however, we meet a new challenger!”

As Ranma took her position, a tall, lanky young man in a chef’s hat motioned for her to gaze out at the crowd. “That’s you, Saotome.”

“Uh, right,” Ranma replied, briefly soaking in the attention from the crowd with a smile, before glancing back with uncertainty toward the man. “Hang on, who are you?”

“My name is Hashiya Tadashi. I’ve been assigned as your sous chef for tonight’s challenge.”

“Great. What are we lookin’ at here? I mean what am I doin’, really?”

“The terms agreed upon for the competition are for four courses of kaiseki cuisine, within an hour.”

“Alright, lessee...uh, well, we gotta make ramen, right? I mean, be kinda stupid not to…” Ranma puzzled it over, before nodding. “It’s winter, so miso ramen’d be perfect.”

Tadashi nodded, taking it down in his notes. “What about a main dish?”

“I mean, there’s yakisoba but...nah, that’s too easy,” Ranma reasoned. “I gotta think outside the box here. What would Ucchan do...that’s right! Ucchan!”

“Er, so that’s…?”

“Nothing, just, we got pork belly, right? Put down Hiroshima-style okonomiyaki as the main course.”

“That just leaves an appetizer and a dessert.”

Once more deep in concentration, Ranma thought back to the things she had eaten in recent weeks. Most of them were rote repetitions of things she ate all the time, Kasumi’s rotating menu having become the calendar by which the weeks went by in the Tendo household. Ranma began listing them off to herself. “Curry, nabe, omurice, katsu—hang on a sec,” she said. “I got it. Instead of omurice, what about omuramen? Put on some demiglace, toss it on a little rice, and call it sushi.”

She paused briefly, but even for an ingredient as strange as a brick of noodles, dessert was no trial to design either. There was never any question what it was going to be, after all. “Oh yeah, and for dessert, it’s gotta be a parfait. Ice cream, anko, some fruit and mochi, and monaka—just make ‘em out of instant noodles. Sounds like fine dining to me!”

Just then, a loud “ding!” could be heard from a bell near the judges.

“Well, the timer’s started,” Tadashi commented, “so we’d best get to work quickly.”

Ranma sorted through the pans, finding a large, square pan suitable for the omelet, but was briefly distracted by the other side of the kitchen, where Tetsuo appeared to have called in an engineering team to start working on some hardware. “Wonder what the hell they got planned over there…” Ranma muttered, before shaking her head. “Alright, in order I guess...omelet first. Can you get the eggs, Hashi-kun?”

“Yes, ma’am.” With that, Tadashi walked over to the fridge.

It wasn’t that Ranma thought something was amiss right away. A few slip-ups happened all the time, and weren’t anything to think too deeply about. When Tadashi dropped the container of eggs, forcing Ranma to salvage some out of their half-broken shells, she’d been irritated, but quickly caught her stride once again as she stirred together the eggs, tossed them onto the heated pan, and cradled a serving of instant noodles in the runny interior of the omelet.

Nor was it all too unthinkable that a bottle of soy sauce handed over to her could have its top poorly screwed on, leading Ranma to spill it all over the dashi. And Hiroshima-style okonomiyaki was surprisingly tricky to prepare the batter for, requiring a fair amount of care, so when Tadashi’s batter turned out lumpy and uneven, she simply sighed and took over. “Can’t save bad batter with good cabbage,” Ranma mumbled to herself as she began to prepare a new mixing bowl.

No, it was that, as she happened to glance back to ask for a larger whisk, it all came together, since there was Tadashi, pouring an entire bottle of vinegar into the finished ramen.

“You bastard!” Ranma yelled, dropping the whisk—and the bowl along with it—onto the ground. “You’ve been workin’ for him the entire time, haven’t you?”

“No—I mean—” Tadashi held up his hands in protest. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Outta the kitchen! Just get the hell out!” Ranma grabbed Tadashi by the arm, shoving him out of his section and back into Tetsuo’s, where the army of workers had given way to a large stainless steel fountain, almost as tall as a person, which was sending down sheets of piping hot soup from the top, down into a trough with a number of sliced vegetables that collected the broth to be recirculated from the top.

“ _And it looks like Saotome is in trouble…_ ” the announcer’s voice bellowed over the loudspeaker. “ _Morimoto seems set to coast to victory once again!_ ”

“Dammit...what do I do now,” Ranma mumbled to herself. Thanks to Tadashi’s sabotage and her own surprise, she was now out two whole courses, and time was beginning to tick down. Worse, she now had no help to finish making the meal. Her options were limited, but as she glanced out into the crowd of onlookers, she realized there was only one she could rely on right now.

“Akane!” Ranma called. “Come over quick!”

Akane looked perplexed for a moment, but quickly came over to the counter, which Ranma was gripping tensely. “Can ya help me out here, ‘Kane? I don’t got a lotta time and need some help to fix the crap Tetsuo’s flunky managed to ruin here.”

“You trust me…” Akane said slowly, “to help with your cooking?”

“I asked ya for help, didn’t I?” Ranma handed Akane a pot that was sitting on the countertop. “Can ya boil some water? I gotta get the stock started quick or there’s no way we finish.”

Akane nodded quickly and turned the faucet on, while Ranma went back to the table where she had laid out several servings of soaked instant noodles.

“Hey!” a voice from the other side of the kitchen called. “You can’t do that!”

Ranma turned around; it was Tetsuo, who seemed to be content to direct his improbably large team to continue building his masterpiece. “Do what?”

“Bringing somebody in from the audience? There are rules here, Saotome!”

“Rules!?” Ranma rolled up her sleeves and began to march over to the dividing line between her side of the kitchen and Tetsuo’s. “You wanna talk about rules? How about we talk about the fact that you got some spy to try and ruin my whole meal? Or that you’ve gotta bunch of muscle buildin’ a damn water fountain in the middle of the kitchen?”

“It’s called _fondue!_ ” Tetsuo replied indignantly.

“Who cares what it’s called? You’ve been cheating the whole damn time!” Ranma growled.

“Unfortunately for you, that’s where you’re wrong.” Tetsuo smirked and motioned towards a stack of papers and contracts. “Haven’t you ever heard of Martial Arts Kaiseki?”

“Martial Arts—” Ranma started, before a grin slowly formed on her face. “Well, why didn’t you say so?” she said, and leaped over the barrier straight towards Tetsuo.

“Ha, you think a couple flashy moves can bring me down?” Tetsuo quipped, dodging effortlessly out of the way. “I think you’ll find I’m not your run-of-the-mill opponent.” Running over to the knife block, he placed his thumbs at the base of the block and used his other fingers to pull all eight of them out at once. “Hassun Houchouburi!” he yelled, flinging them towards Ranma with a burst of ki.

“Ack!” Ranma whirled out of the way just in time, the knives grazing the back of her chef’s coat, making eight shallow cuts in the white cotton. “Dammit, I liked this jacket!” she yelled back, and smirked as she saw that Tetsuo’s weak point was not himself, but the elaborate contraption his lackeys had built. Training her eyes on the fondue fountain, she let loose a blast of energy. “Mouko Takabisha!” 

Plucking a bowl of soup from the countertop, Tetsuo leapt up to trap the blast in the bowl, holding it near him and hurling the bowl and the blast of energy down onto Ranma’s side, yelling, “Mukouzuke Nagemono!”

Ranma grabbed a wooden cutting board like a paddle and flipped backwards just in time to swing the board and knock the bowl out of Akane’s way, sending the bowl rocketing across the kitchen and towards Tetsuo. “Damn it, she’s off limits!” Ranma shouted back as Tetsuo barely dodged the projectile, which landed in the corner of the room and exploded, burning a hole in the traditional wooden-framed building.

The announcer, meanwhile, had smoothly transitioned into reporting on the new sport that seemed to have gone underway. “ _Morimoto with a convincing counterattack, but Saotome pulls out a new bag of tricks!_ ”

Ranma weighed her choices. Logically speaking, she just needed to land a finger on the fountain to bring the whole thing down with a Bakusai Tenketsu; she just had to evade Tetsuo’s stiff defences. Bringing her parkour skills to a new arena, she began hopping back and forth from surface to surface, using the half-destroyed countertop as a springboard to launch her high above the rest of the kitchen—or as it was starting to resemble more closely, battleground.

Tetsuo, however, was ready, and he grinned ferally as he gripped a strange ribbon of cold noodles and yelled “Hiyashi Chuuka!”, catching Ranma as if by a lasso.

“ _It’s the famed ‘Cold Noodle Crush’, ladies and gentlemen! Is our new challenger out for the count?_ ” Ranma was really beginning to hate the announcers’ ongoing narration.

“Give it up, Saotome. There’s no way you’re winning this match!”

Glancing at the clock, the time to face the music certainly seemed to be arriving. Only four minutes remained before the food had to be served, and Ranma had nothing but a single appetizer to show for it.

But Ranma Saotome never lost. And the tight ribbons of noodles squeezing her had given her an idea. Her legs had remained unencumbered, too quick by half to have been caught in Tetsuo’s trap. So she quickly got to her feet, ran to the fountain and began to run rings around it. After all, the equation was dead simple. Cold noodles, hot soup, and a whirlwind to bring it all together? The outcome was exactly what Ranma needed.

“Hiryuu Shouten Ha!”

Flipping herself upward like a human uppercut, the vortex of superheated soup detonated upon contact with the noodles, exploding outwards and annihilating the fondue-nabe contraption and everything in its radius. As Ranma fell back to the ground, exhausted, she heard the “ding!” of a bell before everything went dark.

* * *

“Ranma!”

A familiar voice was calling, but Ranma could do little to react, except blink vaguely, as the litany of overwhelming sensations of the real world came back.

“Ranma!”

It was Akane. Ranma’s vision finally made out her face, and, looking a little beyond her, the sheer destruction that lay beyond. There was no way of making out that this landscape of mayhem had ever been a restaurant kitchen.

“Ugh…’Kane, why’s it feel like I’m gettin’ crushed by a python? Are those damn noodles still stuck to me?”

“Ranma, when was the last time you used that soap?”

 _Oh_. Ranma patted...himself down, finding the small chef’s jacket all of a sudden far too small. Standing up stiffly, he saw a few workers cleaning up some of the rubble, but the entire audience had cleared out. “Heh. Guess it was about time anyway...how long have I been out?”

“Not that long. Just a few minutes,” Akane explained. “Still, you managed to make quite a mess.”

“Sorry…” Ranma said sheepishly. “Guess we ain’t gettin’ another free trip to this ryokan, huh?”

“Don’t be. You know, despite everything...I had fun this weekend,” Akane replied with a smile.

“Yeah. Me too...or I did till it went to hell anyway. I guess ya really can’t win ‘em all, huh?”

Akane’s smile widened into a grin as she picked up a stray pot and ladle. “Actually, you did.”

“I—huwha?”

“Remember that pot of water you asked me to boil?” Ranma nodded, a little confused. “Well, after the explosion, there wasn’t much left to do with it, except put some instant noodles and flavour packets in. Tetsuo’s meal was gone, so Team Saotome won by default.”

“Y–you made the winning dish?” Upon seeing Akane nod, Ranma sputtered with laughter. “Ha! So ya really can cook after all!”

Before he knew it, Akane had flicked him with the chilly remnants of tsukemen in the pot she was holding, and Ranma’s jacket all of a sudden fit a lot more comfortably.

“Jerk,” Akane said, sticking out her tongue. “Now come on. I’m pretty sure we need to find somewhere else to stay for the night.”

* * *

**OMAKE**

“I don’t think you need to worry about that.” The voice sounded familiar to Ranma, but she couldn’t place it.

“Whaddaya mean?” she asked, straightening out her chef’s jacket as she looked up to see who it was. That newscaster accent. The way each word sounded like it wouldn’t be out of place on a sports commentary. There was no doubting who this was.

“I’m from Fuji TV,” the announcer said, his eyes bulging slightly. “That was incredible! What do you say to a full-season contract?”


End file.
